


Blue to Match His Eyes

by OllieMaye



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Hogwarts, Masturbation, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, The Author Regrets Nothing, literally nothing happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 15:11:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16088660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieMaye/pseuds/OllieMaye
Summary: Gilderoy has just taken a job as a professor at Hogwarts, and setting up his new quarters is hard work. But he’s got an eye for beautiful things, and he takes some time out to fully appreciate them.





	Blue to Match His Eyes

The start of term was in a week, and Gilderoy Lockhart had arrived to Hogwarts early to supervise the house elves as they arranged his quarters to his specifications. Most of the other professors’ rooms were sophisticatedly decorated, but Gilderoy had better taste than all of them and made his requests quite plain in his contract; four full-length mirrors, a golden vanity at which he could coiff his hair in his signature curls, luxe furnishings, upholstery in a cornflower blue. Not many people had an eye for such detail, but he prided himself on having such attentions. 

“You there, place those flowers on the coffee table, and be careful not to rumple them, and you, make sure to hang my robes facing the same direction in the wardrobe. Can’t have chaos in the morning while choosing my ensemble for my fans - er, students,” he instructed haughtily. The house elves eagerly complied, flitting about the room as they fulfilled his orders. The elves were now hanging his robes up and unpacking a large chest which seemed to hold mostly hair supplies and cosmetic items: powders, pomades and hair potions, special brushes and combs, and a variety of differently-sized hand mirrors. 

One elf had started unpacking a smaller chest, when Gilderoy barked “you there, with the small chest! I can do that bit, you set up my bar cart, there is gillywater and firewhiskey in the open chest to the left.” The elf quickly bounded to the libations as instructed, and Gilderoy replaced the elf in front of the chest it had been working on. 

He reached inside, gingerly removing the large cloth covering the contents and flinging it to the side. Inside the chest were various framed photographs all wrapped in soft, fluffy cloths; twenty-seven photographs of Gilderoy Lockhart, all flashing brilliant smiles, golden blond hair, and blue eyes that twinkled as he moved his gaze toward the camera. 

The first photo he picked up showed him flamboyantly twirling his robes, which were beaded and fringed, and in a brilliant shade of azure blue. He smiled at the photo, remembering the day it was taken; he had just released “Magical Me,” and Witch Weekly had sought an interview with him, in conjunction with a retrospective they were doing on all his previous works. 

It was with lust that he remembered the photo session. The stylist that day had been a beautiful blonde witch, curvaceous and pouty-lipped, and beautiful. She had plump, supple breasts, and her thin, silken robes barely concealed the outline of her taut nipples. She looked like Venus, and while she dressed him and fussed with Gilderoy’s robes, her fingers lingered on his body, sparking lusty magic with each brush against his skin. Soon they abandoned the sets of robes altogether, and Gilderoy fucked the witch on the sofa; not wanting a scandalous story to hit the Prophet or Witch Weekly, he modified her memory after their tryst, keeping the memory of their flirtation but erasing the memory of the fuck. It hadn’t been that great anyway, but he still needed to keep his image as a witches’ wizard. 

He walked the photograph over to the bar cart and set it down next to the crystal decanters of liquor the house elf had set up for him. “There you go,” he purred at the photo, and he stroked the outline of the photo-Gilderoy’s body. He pictured his own perfect cock underneath those robes, and as he turned back to the chest, he felt the first stirrings of arousal in his loins. 

“Ahhhh, of course,” he breathed, lifting a close-up photo of himself, framed in golden scrolls. This Gilderoy dazzled the camera with his smile, full of impossibly white teeth, and curls framing his face. The curls danced as photo-Gilderoy turned his face to meet the camera, and the real Gilderoy couldn’t help but appreciate the objective beauty of the photo in front of him. The eyes of the photo-Gilderoy were more smoldering as they found the photo’s viewer, and Gilderoy locked its gaze for a few moments. The photo’s beauty left him breathless, and he felt his cock twitch the longer he looked at the photo. He placed the frame on his vanity, so he could admire his Adonis-like features as he got ready in the mornings. 

He thought back to the day that photo was taken. The photographer had been a lean, long-limbed, and boyish-faced wizard in his early twenties. His blond hair was cut loosely around his face, and he had worn close-fitting charcoal grey robes. The lighting in the room had made him hot, or so the photographer had said, so he discarded his robes in the middle of the session, revealing a chiseled chest and a sizable bulge in his boxer briefs. Gilderoy doubted the veracity of his statement that the lights were making him warm (he’d always had that effect on people), but he took full advantage of his forwardness and fucked the photographer right there on the chair he had sat in for his photos. Later, he cast a charm on the film to modify its contents and modified the bloke’s memory; poor chap would never remember or have proof of the amazing fuck Gilderoy had given him. He looked back at the photo and could have sworn he saw it wink back at him, sending a jolt through his body, right down to his already semi-hard cock. 

Feeling suddenly warm, Gilderoy removed his outer robes, placing them gently onto a hanger and re-homing them in the wardrobe alongside his other pieces. “Elves, you can go now, you’ve all done brilliantly,” he crooned to the house elves. The elves that had attended him bowed deeply and with a deafening POP!, all disapparated at once. Gilderoy then strode to the bar cart, a beautiful golden piece, all mirrors framed by gold scrolls and bevelled edges. Prising a crystal tumbler from the bottom of the cart, he poured himself some of the amber firewhiskey and gulped it down. The liquid burned slightly on the way down, and once the steam from his ears subsided, he swigged again. Another glass of whiskey later, Gilderoy was feeling pleasantly loose, and he set back to unpacking his photos. 

***

Most of the photos had found homes around his room, and he had polished off about a third of the firewhiskey he had brought with him. He conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, writing “order more Ogden’s” and folding it up. He waved his wand and the parchment flew away, on its way to the house elves’ quarters. Further imbibing had left him feeling quite warm indeed; he had discarded his silky under-robes, haphazardly flinging then across the room. He then sat, spread-legged, upon a lushly upholstered armchair, covered in lavish royal blue fabric flecked with with golden threads that magically shimmered no matter where the light hitting it came from. 

He continued arranging the rest of the photos in strategic locations around the room, reminiscing about his various exploits and conquests, and admiring his perfect smile, his perfect hair, his perfect everything. Reaching back into the chest, the last photo he pulled had his cock twitching again. A gloriously tanned Gilderoy gazed out from the frame. His chest rippled slightly with well-toned muscles, light golden hair trailing from his defined abs down below the sapphire blue swim shorts that were slung scandalously low. Photo-Gilderoy was reclining on a cobalt blue settee, seductively beckoning to the photo viewer with sultry eyes. 

The man in the photo licked his lips, and Gilderoy found himself touching his own chest, stroking the muscles and watching the photo’s tongue dart in and out of his mouth. Gilderoy mimicked the movements with his own tongue as his hand wound its way down his abdomen, tracing the outlines of his muscles and following that same trail of blond hair down past his pants. He quickly removed them, his fully erect cock now free. 

The cool room air hit the sensitive head of his prick and sent another shiver through his body. “Time to warm you up, Sir Gildie,” he crooned to his little self. He brought his hands up to his mouth, blew some warm air into them, and swiped his thumb over the head of his prick. Accioing a jar of his favorite lube to him, he scooped some out and spread the light blue substance over his cock. He lazily stroked his shaft, doing a couple of fast strokes followed by one or two slower, more sensual ones. The lube felt amazing, as it should; he’d made it himself, so he could control the consistency. He had also cast a charm on it so it would never lose its moistness, and infused it with amortentia. Gilderoy inhaled deeply, and it filled his senses with scents of new books, firewhiskey and his own special scent, which added a certain “je ne sais quoi” and drove him absolutely wild. 

He watched the photo again, the tongue flicking in and out of view every once in a while, and he greedily imagined that tongue flicking over his cock. His fingers traced the vein up the back of his cock and Gilderoy swirled around the head again, relishing the feel of his masterful hand over himself. Wanting more stimulation, Gilderoy shifted himself down in the chair and propped his feet up on the coffee table, careful not to knock the glass out of its place. He scooped a little more of the blue lube and slathered it over both hands. Continuing the languid stroking of his cock with his wand hand, his other hand found his balls and massaged them gently, tracing the outline of his sac and pulling slightly. He felt the stretch of skin between his balls and his hole and lightly stroked it. Still traveling further down, he found the beginning pucker of his entrance and circled it with his fingertips. He pressed slightly and he relaxed his hole, allowing his finger to massage the muscles. He felt like he was on auto-pilot, watching the breathtaking figure in the photo and letting his hands do as they had done a million times before. 

His finger pressed forward and into his arse, sending a new jolt to his cock. He pumped in and out a few times in rhythm with the strokes on his cock, loosening his entrance. The photo-Gilderoy seemed to watch him intently, seemed to watch his finger-fuck his arse and his cock fuck his hand. All the attention drove Gilderoy mad, and he inserted another finger into his hole, stretching it as he located his prostate. He curled his fingers and hit it, the sweet spot, the feeling of it sending shivers of pleasure up his cock and down his legs. He pumped harder and stroked faster, squeezing his eyes shut and seeing stars in the blackness. 

Feeling lusty, he added a third and final finger into his stretched hole, his arse becoming a bit sore, but he relished the feeling, knowing that he and only he could drive himself to be so wanton. He kept rhythm with his wand hand, flying over his cock. No one else could pleasure him like this; no witch or wizard possessed the skill and attention to detail he had. The thought of this, the continued attentions of all the framed photos watching him fuck himself silly, the feeling of the fingers in his arse, all of it drove him over the edge, and he came, spilling white into his hand and onto the rippled plane of his abdomen. Breathless, he gently removed his fingers from his hole, grimacing slightly but loving the lingering sensation, a true testament to his skills as a lover.

The photo-Gilderoys erupted into a thunder of applause, bellowing “Bravo!” and “Well done, old chap!” Gilderoy cast a scourgify spell over himself and stood. He picked his pants back up and put them on, then sauntered to the vanity to repair the damage done to his hair during his love-making session. He bowed deeply to the photos in gratitude for their enthusiasm, then redressed in a flowing robe of turquoise, preparing for his first dinner with the rest of the Hogwarts staff in just twenty minutes. 

He looked over his new quarters one last time before heading downstairs; flowers were all in place, mirrors all had homes, the window dressing impeccably tufted and tied back with gold trimmings. He looked at the big, four-poster bed: something here was amiss. “Ah, yes,” murmured Gilderoy, waving his wand in the direction of the bed. A large piece of cloth erupted from the tip of his wand and draped itself over the posts, creating a canopy over the bed and adding a bit of drama to an otherwise rather nondescript bed. And of course, it was a beautiful shade of cerulean blue, to match his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by a post in the Potterotic Facebook group, asking someone to write a fic where Gilderoy Lockhart masturbates to a photo of himself. I regret nothing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Blue to Match His Eyes [Podfic]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17214308) by [Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum/pseuds/Keep_Calm_And_Expecto_Patronum), [OllieMaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OllieMaye/pseuds/OllieMaye)




End file.
